


Chocolates, Wine, and Rope

by Liara_90



Series: Two Loose Ends [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Love, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Romance, Vaginal Fingering, Valentine's Day, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day for girlfriends Pyrrha Nikos and Blake Belladonna. The gifts they get one another might be just a little self-indulgent.</p><p>Modern AU where Pyrrha is an athlete and Blake an artist. You can read it as a smutty Pussy Magnet one-shot, though it follows the continuity of "Making Ends Meet".</p><p>Kinky Valentine's Day smut, romantic fluff, and plenty of WAFF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolates, Wine, and Rope

**Author's Note:**

> Go back, watch RWBY, and pay attention to whenever Pyrrha Nikos smirks, smiles or laughs. Tell me won't don't need more of her being happy and joyous.
> 
> Smut begins shortly after the first horizontal line break.

Pyrrha Nikos' favorite holiday, Blake had been more than a little surprised to discover, was Valentine's Day.

In retrospect, that revelation should hardly have been so unexpected. Pyrrha very much wanted to live in a world of romanticist sensibilities, a world where love was always true, happiness always triumphant and where souls were bound together for eternity. Once upon a time Blake might have scoffed at that, but then she'd seen that they were the same sentiments that underlay Pyrrha's sense of honor and righteousness, the fuel that made her sacrifice her own comfort out of a need to better the world. She could push herself _so far_ because she saw the challenges of the world not with Blake's cynical realism but as epic battles to be fought and won, hurdles to be leapt, evils to be vanquished. There were, Blake had to concede, some benefits to that worldview.

So _of course_ Pyrrha loved Valentine's, a day where love was to be basked and bathed in, where she had the perfect excuse to affirm the bonds of romance and indulge in the fruits of its labors. She'd spent so much of her life alone, separated, _alienated_ that having twenty-four hours to do nothing but reaffirm the connections to her lover was a glimpse at paradise itself. She'd spend the day practically aflutter, to Blake's bemusement, The Invincible Girl forgotten for the few hours where should could just be another girl, hopelessly in love.

"Good morning, light of my life," breathed Pyrrha, straddling Blake's sprawled and slumbering form. With a lethargic roll of her neck Blake flopped onto her back, allowing her girlfriend to press chest against chest. Blake felt Pyrrha's heat radiating off her, warming her more than any electric blanket ever could, her nose twitching slightly as a few stray red hairs crossed her face. "Do you know what day today is?"

"How could I possibly forg-". Before Blake could finish her undoubtedly witty retort she felt Pyrrha's lips pressed against hers, causing her eyes to open to the morning's light, before she tasted sweet cocoa on her tongue. "Milk chocolate," Blake noted with a soft moan, as Pyrrha broke the chocolate-transferring kiss. "I must have done _something_ right this year."

"Happy Valentine's Day," said Pyrrha, twisting herself slightly so she could properly entwine their legs. She reached for another chocolate from a box resting on her nightstand, plopping it between Blake's lips. Pyrrha rested her fingers over Blake's mouth far longer than necessary, giggling slightly as her girlfriend began licking at her tips. It was dangerously easy for Blake to forget her girlfriend had a playful side, too, that the composed and stoic demeanor of The Invincible Girl was just that, a persona the realities of her profession demanded. But then Blake would hear the beautiful laugh of her lover, and kick herself for losing sight of the adorable girl at her core.

The pursuit of milky chocolates gave Blake the excuse to properly awaken, propping herself up in bed while keeping the blankets clutched to her skin. "Happy Valentine's Day," said Blake, mirroring her girlfriend's words, if in a slightly drier tone. A stupidly satisfied smile crossed Pyrrha's face, which Blake couldn't resist kissing.

"So what are we doing today?" asked Pyrrha, practically bouncing, as Blake reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. Pyrrha was still dressed in a silk white nightie that had been one of Blake's more self-serving Christmas presents, while the artist glanced about for the T-shirt she'd carelessly discarded before tucking in for the for night.

Pyrrha had won every other battle, spoiling Blake every red letter day of the year. Blake had long given up trying to come up with better Christmas gifts than Pyrrha, had accepted that she could never match Pyrrha's perfectly-executed birthdays and anniversaries. Shopping for Pyrrha was a recurring nightmare of Blake's, her selfless girlfriend insisting she never wanted anything more than good company. But Valentine's Day was the one celebration where Blake was the unchallenged decision-maker. Not because Blake was a hopeless romantic or anything of the sort - quite the opposite, in fact. But because while Pyrrha lost herself in the pervasive atmosphere of romance, Blake, forever grounded, could _scheme_.

Not, admittedly, like it took a romantic mastermind to plan a Valentine's with Pyrrha. She was a sucker for the classics - a nice dinner, chocolates, going somewhere scenic - and for _once_ Blake could ensure Pyrrha had a better time than she did. And it was in turn the one day of the year that Pyrrha surrendered, content to let herself be the leaf floating on Blake's gust of wind, to plan nothing other than to be awash with emotions by sundown.

"So I was thinking we could stay in tonight, maybe order pizza, watch something on Netflix," mused Blake, pulling a T-shirt over a head covered in kanji characters that were illegible to her girlfriend. "Not really feeling up for anything fancy, you know?"

"Oh," said Pyrrha, like a child being told that Santa was Daddy, and that Daddy wanted a divorce. "Sure, that sounds fine."

Pyrrha turned her back to Blake, ostensibly to fuss over something on her desk. But while she tried to restore her steely composure Blake slunk like a cat towards Pyrrha, using all manner of stealth and subterfuge to silently cross the mattress. Sensing the perfect moment, Blake wrapped her arms around Pyrrha's waist, pushing off with her legs to _yank_ Pyrrha back onto the bed where she could be smothered with kisses.

"You dolt," teased Blake, a ticklish giggle escaping Pyrrha as a patter of kisses ran along neck. "I got us reservation at Scarlatina's for seven o'clock."

" _Scarlatina's_?" said Pyrrha with a whimper so girlish and excited it jarred Blake's sensibilities. "I tried getting a table there and they said the wait was six months."

"Believe it or not, I'm old friends with the girl who runs the place," replied Blake. Her lips moved from neck to collarbone, but her mind was on the way Pyrrha was possessively squeezing her. "Though I don't suppose mentioning that my Gold Medalist of a girlfriend would be in attendance had anything to do with it."

" _Blake_ ," Pyrrha chided, always hating to use what fame she had for personal gain. Women's heptathlon might have a long way to go before its popularity overtook beach volleyball, but she'd been on enough magazine covers after Rio that the name "Pyrrha Nikos" was starting to carry some weight. Blake, of course, had none of her girlfriend's compunctions about using that name as leverage.

"Don't worry, Pyrrha, Scarlatina's clientele place a pretty big premium on their privacy. Velvet makes sure the paparazzi don't get past the front door." Blake paused. " _Speaking_ of getting past the front door, though, I've heard they're a stickler for the dress code. I hope you're planning to wear something nice for me," she said with a coy grin.

" _I'm_ not the one who walked into a steakhouse in a hoodie and sweat pants," fired back Pyrrha, though the smile on her face was impossible to extinguish.

"I'm an artist, eccentricities are expected," said Blake, dismissing the critique with an airy wave of her hand. "I had to call in a few favors for those seats, so I expect you looking pretty." The phrase sounded alien on her tongue, like a script from a show she hadn't watched. To Blake the words sounded demanding and presumptive, even if it was just a kind of impromptu roleplay, one that Pyrrha was more than a willing participant in.

"Play your cards right, handsome, and you might just get something with a slit," teased Pyrrha in response, kissing a flustered Blake's lips before pushing herself off the mattress.

Pyrrha broke into giggles a moment later, unable to keep up their _suave_ guy and _femme fatale_ act. Blake chased after her, the chill of the apartment in February giving them an excuse to keep close.

"I love you," murmured Blake as she 'caught' Pyrrha, the following string of kisses delaying breakfast by at least ten minutes. "You beautiful, heroic, selfless cupcake". And Pyrrha _squeeeed_ and Blake laughed and was happy that, for at least one day of the year, her girlfriend would let herself be spoiled.

They hugged and kissed and did things that would make Blake twenty minutes late, the artist for once having earlier demands on her time than Pyrrha did. By the time Blake finally reached the door her hair was disheveled and her clothes even more so, not like she had the audacity to complain.

"I've got to run," lamented Blake, fastening a scarf around her neck as she did. "Scarlatina's. Seven o'clock. Pretty dress. Then presents. So how does _that_ sound?"

"Rather grand," answered Pyrrha, stealing her last kiss before nightfall.

* * *

Blake Belladonna loved Pyrrha Nikos. There were many reasons, of varying importance. First there were the small reasons: she loved the way she looked and sounded, her muscled build and her flaming hair. Then there was the fact that she was dutiful and caring, that she would fight to make the world a better place even when Blake felt like wallowing in pessimism and despair. There was their shared history, moments in time when Blake had discovered the depths of her roommate's care for her, _just_ how much she was willing to sacrifice. There were the intangible reasons she loved Pyrrha, like how she made Blake not feel like shit after the _umpteenth_ rejection by a publisher, how she lived in a cramped apartment with Blake because her girlfriend insisted on being able to pay some fraction of the rent.

But right now, Blake truly loved that Pyrrha was strong enough to carry her bridal-style over the threshold.

"I feel emasculated," said Blake, doing her best to sound sullen (and utterly failing). Pyrrha had close to half a foot on her and had no difficulty hoisting her girlfriend into her muscle-bound arms, the heeled shoes on her feet apparently irrelevant to her balance.

"You could've worn a dress if you wanted to," retorted Pyrrha. She carried Blake over to the couch, lowering her down onto it with her usual gentleness. "I can't say that I'm complaining, though."

Blake tried to answer with a self-confident smirk, but somehow it came out as a blush instead. Her ensemble was almost all black - like the overwhelming majority of her wardrobe - a black dress shirt and matching dress pants, a leather belt and an unbuttoned blazer. They were clothes Blake felt confident in, even if they made her stand out in a restaurant where women wore blouses and skirts, stiletto heels instead of ankle boots. Blake had never heard a murmur of complaint from the more traditionally-garbed Pyrrha, though she'd learned how to walk in heels and do her hair up nicely, just in case.

"You're looking pretty… pretty, uh, _pretty_ yourself," Blake managed to retort, her acerbic wit having failed her as Pyrrha's fingers began tracing the collar of the shirt. Since Blake apparently couldn't talk and have hairs standing on end at the same time.

"It's hard to believe you're a published author," teased Pyrrha, a hand gently toying with Blake's ear.

"'Like ' _Fifty Shades of Grey_ ', but with lesbians and good'," Blake quoted in agreement, grinning at the memory of that particular review as she did.

Pyrrha slid herself onto the couch atop Blake, her motions sleek and powerful. Blake moved to begin stroking Pyrrha's back only to find her wrists encircled in her girlfriend's powerful hands, then yanked up over her head and pinned in place to a cushion.

" _Pyrrha_ ," Blake practically mewled, as her girlfriend pressed kisses against her skin between teasing intervals. Some of Pyrrha's hair had spilled over the side of her face, demanding to be brushed, but Blake's hands were kept bolted in a vice-like grip. The fact that their thighs were brushing against one another's, even through layers of fabric, was doing nothing for Blake's restraint. "Let me get you out that dress."

"You buy a girl _one_ meal and you expect her to be eating out of your hand," teased Pyrrha, conveniently ignoring the fact that she'd spent the better part of the last hour in a park being literally hand-fed chocolates by Blake. She planted another kiss on Blake's lips before releasing her girlfriend's wrists, rising from the couch and running a hand through her hair.

"To be fair, it was a _really_ nice meal," Blake countered, seating herself upright. She debated tossing off her jacket, but given the way Pyrrha had been toying with the lapels in the taxi ride back, she thought better of it.

"Thank you again for that," replied Pyrrha with that perfectly-honest smile of hers, and Blake felt like kicking herself. She wasn’t exactly a starving artist anymore, though she'd always be dwarfed by what Pyrrha could bring in. But it still felt wrong to Blake to draw attention to what she _did_ pay for, like she was expecting to be praised for some heroic sacrifice.

Her introspection was aborted as her girlfriend returned to the couch, having come back from the bedroom with two bagged presents. Pyrrha was still wearing her outfit from dinner - a maxi dress with a seductively low cut and a treacherously high slit that never failed to leave Blake tongue-tied - though she'd slipped out of her heels, giving her aching feet much-needed relief.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," said Pyrrha, pressing a kiss against Blake's forehead as she handed her lover one of the bags. "I want to see what you got yourself."

It had been almost a running joke at first, until it had somehow morphed into tradition, born out of the reality that Pyrrha Nikos was impossible to shop for. Christmases, anniversaries and birthdays had affirmed a cruel reality of the universe, that Blake would be coupled with a girlfriend who would forever be the superior gift-giver. Pyrrha, _of course_ , perennially insisted that she didn't need anything, that Blake's love and affections were more than gifts enough. And then she'd do something like get Blake a first-edition print of _Ninjas of Love_ , autographed and addressed to Blake by the creator himself. Leaving Blake to hand over her present with a grimace, something silly like magnetic putty or a new bathrobe, and blush scarlet as Pyrrha gushed about how it was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever gotten her. And then they'd kiss and make love, and in the dark recesses of Blake's mind a lingering doubt would fester…

Pyrrha, being Pyrrha, had inevitably noticed Blake's agonies. The way Blake treated every unboxing like a live bomb was being defused, the way she felt the need to apologize for her inadequacy when their Christmas gifts were exchanged. After Blake had unwrapped a Wacom tablet one birthday she'd wanted to insist on some kind of a spending limit, but Pyrrha was as unyielding as a block of limestone, unrepentant as she described the joy buying presents for Blake brought to her. Blake had been forced to accept that, and now that Pyrrha was free to spend her accumulated earnings Blake knew it was a competition she could never possibly win. So she was damned to fret over finding something _heartfelt_ and _creative_ , but still yearning to pamper Pyrrha like the princess she deserved to be.

Valentine's Day, though, was where they'd reached a tongue-in-cheek compromise. After all the necessary presents were exchanged - the chocolates and flowers and imported wines - they would get one gift for themselves. Or rather, that's who they'd _say_ it was for. Pyrrha still felt awkward buying lingerie as a present, as it seemed…. _presumptive_ … to assume the gift's recipient would be overjoyed at being able to look sexier for her. Pyrrha intellectually _knew_ better, of course, understood that her girlfriend enjoyed looking seductive for her just as much as Pyrrha did in turn… but their Valentine's tradition was a convenient excuse not to feel awkward or embarrassed. It worked just as well for Blake, who had a wishlist a mile long of fetish toys she wanted to try on herself, but felt uneasy assuming her desires would be shared.

The tradition had yet to backfire, and every 'self-serving' present was consistently enjoyed just as much by either woman, though sometimes for different reasons. But it was a fun game nonetheless.

Blake began opening Pyrrha's present first, extracting from the bag a book wrapped in shiny paper. Pyrrha positioned herself on the couch beside Blake, one foot lazily running up and down the fabric of Blake's dress pants. Blake's curiosity got the better of her as she hurriedly undid the wrapping, wondering just how self-serving any gifted book could be…

" _Building an Aura of Love_ ," read Blake, " _A Introductory Guide to Tantric Sexual Massage_." An eyebrow was raised in surprise as an envelope slipped out from between the pages. Blake stole a glance at her girlfriend, who seemed abuzz with nervous anticipation, before she pulled out the papers folded inside. "And a beginner's sexual massage training course. So this is…how to give you orgasmic massages? "

" _Mm-hm_ ," confirmed Pyrrha, wrapping her arms around Blake and pulling their heads close together. "The course is run by people from Student Sexual Health Services back at Beacon University. And before I forget, you need a partner to practice on, _sooooo_ …"

Pyrrha tried sending Blake another flirty glance but her girlfriend's patience was all-but-exhausted, the artist pushing the athlete against the couch's arms so kisses could be forcefully exchanged. "Thank you," murmured Blake, managing to straddle Pyrrha's lap.

And as was always the case, a gift nominally for Pyrrha was something Blake would derive much satisfaction from. Pyrrha actually knew quite a bit about massages - at least of the conventional sort - having acquired an appreciation for them after all the years she'd spent punishing her body in the gym. Blake wordlessly wished that she could be the one rubbing Pyrrha down at the end of a strenuous workout, or to knead out the kinks in her muscles, but she was painfully aware that she lacked the technique of the professional masseuses Pyrrha had grown accustomed to, that her few times massaging her girlfriend in the bedroom were clumsy and amateurish in comparison…

…But the book's cover promised to teach Blake how to massage places Pyrrha's professionals couldn't touch. Or at least, Blake _really_ hoped that was the case…

Blake felt Pyrrha's hand drifting towards her inner thigh, the sensation of her touch through the wool of dress pants somehow entirely different then when on bare skin, or through the thick cotton of sweat pants or the denim of jeans. It almost made dressing up worth it.

"You still have my present to open," groaned Blake, as Pyrrha's hand begans moving treacherously close to her belt buckle.

" _Mmmhm_ ," Pyrrha vaguely agreed, her eyes opening only when she could no longer feel Blake's breath on her face. "I wonder what you got yourself…"

Blake remained coyly mute as Pyrrha reached around for the bag containing her present, the paper wrapping lacking in Pyrrha's flawless precision. Blake didn't realize she was holding her breath.

"A ballgag?" asked Pyrrha with mild incredulity, holding up the packaged 'bedroom accessory'. Her brow furled, "I thought you hated these?"

 _That_ much was true. Blake despised the taste of rubber or silicone in her mouth, the unnatural strain on her jaw that came with having one wedged between her teeth. The time she'd spent 'modeling' for Cinderful Studios had only reinforced that distaste, and her preferences for rope and cloth, silk and steel. "I don't like wearing them," Blake confirmed, still seeing puzzlement on Pyrrha's face. "But I do like… how they look."

"Oh." A beat. " _Oh_." The confused look evaporated from Pyrrha's face, replaced with a sly grin. Blake's doubts and fears, the misgivings she'd had about gifting something like that to her girlfriend, vanished when Pyrrha pulled them back together, entwined so they felt every breath and twitch. "And here I thought I was resigned to forever play the top."

"It's just something I wanted to try," murmured Blake, as Pyrrha kept her anchored in place by the lapels of her jacket. "If you don't like it you don't have to use it again. Or, you know, at all."

"Do you want to try it tonight?" asked Pyrrha gently, ruby lips imprinting on Blake's cheek.

"Only if you feel up for it," Blake hurriedly stated, a nervous heat spreading on the back of her neck.

Pyrrha said nothing, responding with a wordless string of kisses across Blake's face while her hands began drifting south. Blake liked to think of herself as cool and collected, even in the bedroom, but Pyrrha had a way of burning through her patience and discipline like a hot knife through butter. When Pyrrha was doing nothing but sitting around the apartment it took considerable reserves of willpower for Blake to keep from staring. When Pyrrha tossed her a coy grin or a flirty smile, Blake's mind ground to a halt. When Pyrrha started _hunting_ Blake, well… resistance was futile at that point.

Blake slid herself off the couch they were making out on, awkwardly positioning herself before she _lifted_ with her knees and hoisted Pyrrha over her shoulder, rising to her feet as she did.

"Just as romantic as a bridal carry, I know," teased Blake, as Pyrrha giggled like a schoolgirl. Blake wobbled slightly as her weight shifted, but she diligently hauled her girlfriend the short distance to their bed, managing not to drop Pyrrha even after her lover discovered she could reach Blake's ass from her position.

"You know I love it when you carry me," noted Pyrrha, as she was dropped rather gracelessly on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling.

"I hope that's not the _only_ thing about me you love," growled Blake in response. She finally kicked off her shoes and tossed off her jacket, before pouncing feline-esque onto the bed, a leg coming to rest on either side of Pyrrha's hips.

"I can think of one or two other things," teased back Pyrrha. Her lips, red like roses, brushed against Blake's. "So am I going to be at your mercies tonight?"

"I promise they'll be tender," replied Blake, as her lips found Pyrrha's neck.

Blake leaned back so Pyrrha could sit up, allowing her girlfriend to open the small cardboard box containing her present. The ballgag, Pyrrha couldn't help notice, was a vivid green color, one suspiciously close to that of her eyes. It was actually remarkably large, rather than the small 'trainer' balls Blake had briefly experimented with. There was a single strap of black leather, which could be fastened in place by a silver buckle.

Pyrrha didn't say anything, but instead sat up straight on the bed, her legs folded neatly beneath her. Blake remained silent, hypnotized as her girlfriend brought the ball to her lips, before opening her jaw wide enough to wedge it between her teeth. Pyrrha shook her head slightly to brush some loose hairs out of her way as she fumbled about with the strap, her brow furrowing in concentration for a moment as she threaded the leather through the buckle, pinning it tightly in place behind her head.

"Oh my god," breathed Blake as Pyrrha brought her hands back to her lap, straightening herself as if readying for a presentation. Then Blake saw the way Pyrrha's eyes shimmered with excitement, and couldn't keep from tackling her to the bed then and there, pelting her true love with a torrent of kisses.

Pyrrha let out a giggle at the complete disintegration of Blake's stoicism, though the rubber ball in her mouth distorted the sound somewhat comically. Pyrrha spread her arms and legs as Blake's hands and lips greedily sought every part of her body.

"Dh nhh whnt th tnm mm hp?" Pyrrha 'asked' after Blake's first volley of ravishments was over, the noises intelligible in her head and nowhere else.

"For some reason, I can't understand you tonight," teased Blake, though her hands began moving to the buckle fastening the ball gag in place. Pyrrha made a vague but distinctly _negative_ sound, sliding back a bit on the bed to keep Blake from reaching her goal. A puzzled look crossed Blake's face before Pyrrha held her hands up, pressing her wrists together in a universal symbol of restraint. "The ballgag is sexy enough, Pyrrha, I don't need to tie you up, too."

Pyrrha said nothing (understandably so), instead spinning around so she was face down on the mattress, then pressing her hands together behind her back. Blake sighed a little even as her breaths quickened in nervous anticipation. She hurriedly made her way to a small drawer in their closet filled with the kind of things they didn't want guests rummaging through, selecting a few neatly-bundled coils of rope a moment later.

Before she continued Blake slid down next to Pyrrha, gently nibbling at the gagged girl's ear. "You know I find you just as beautiful the way you are," Blake murmured, a finger lazily tracing the bumps of Pyrrha's spine.

Pyrrha just stared at back at Blake with those brilliant, emerald green eyes of hers, love and warmth _ad infinitum_ behind them. And then she made a short lunge at Blake, doing her best to kiss her lover but ending up just bouncing the rubbery ball in her mouth off of Blake's lips. Blake snorted a little and began kissing back, the lock of their lips rather awkward but enjoyable all the same.

"You remember how to signal that you want to stop?" asked Blake unnecessarily, and Pyrrha nodded in wordless agreement. They'd shared the same non-verbal safe-word for years, unchanged since the first time Blake had been tied up on the floor of Cinder Fall's 'modeling' studio.

With a cautious sigh Blake began making her way to Pyrrha's wrists, binding them together with almost tedious carefulness. This was hardly her first time tying Pyrrha up, but in the overwhelming number of occurrences their roles were reversed, Blake resting on the mattress while Pyrrha knotted ropes or tightened zipties.

As Blake moved on to Pyrrha's ankles, she couldn't entirely suppress a pang of guilt, as wrong-headed as she knew it was. Blake knew that being bound and gagged didn't have the same effect on Pyrrha as it did for her, that Pyrrha found Blake's touch and smell and attention far more potent aphrodisiacs than handcuffs and muzzles. Blake undeniably enjoyed tying a beautiful lady up, but it was so much easier, so smaller a request to ask to be tied up herself instead.

After a prompting tap Pyrrha rolled onto her back, shifting slightly to try to rest her hands in a comfortable position beneath her. Blake abandoned her plans for a hogtie and instead began tying a loop around each of Pyrrha's ankles, the ropes then connected to opposite ends of the bedframe, forcing Pyrrha's legs to remain spread. Pyrrha still wore the maxi dress she'd donned for dinner, so most of her skin still remained covered, though the possibilities grew ever-more tantalizing.

It felt dangerous to Blake. Dangerous because Pyrrha Nikos was in love with her, and to those she loved Pyrrha would give her life. How rare was it for Pyrrha to ever say 'no' to something, how many fears did she have of being dumped and abandoned, damned to isolation and alienation once more? How much of her own comfort would she sacrifice to make Blake happy, without Blake ever realizing? And as much as Pyrrha feared not doing enough, Blake sincerely feared doing quite the opposite, of demanding more than any girlfriend could be expected to give simply because Pyrrha had always seemed so willing. How she feared that Pyrrha would run away once Blake became too big a problem to address, like Blake herself had long ago been prone to…

Had they been able to read one another's minds it would have been cause for humor, so confident was the other that their girlfriend's fears would never be realized. Blake would rather lose an arm than break Pyrrha's heart, her love and commitment to the woman she considered her rescuer so boundless and unconditional. Nor would Pyrrha ever let herself be driven away by something as simple as a bedroom request, not when Blake agonized over her feelings and wellbeing at the mildest sign of distress.

Her doubts and concerns were why Blake was insisting on focusing on Pyrrha's pleasure, running a string of kisses up Pyrrha's thigh with an alternating mix of tenderness and pressure. Her girlfriend moaned into her gag as her chest began rising and falling at a heightened tempo, Blake mouth and hands sliding up the dress at a slothful pace.

Pyrrha tried to kick a little as Blake's mouth approached her panties, the unbound woman having finally slid up all of Pyrrha's dress, leaving long and muscled legs fully exposed. The ropes anchored to the bedframe kept Pyrrha's soft thrashes from moving her anywhere, the position leaving her completely vulnerable to the way Blake began gently nuzzling her vulva.

The growing pain in Pyrrha's jaw was quickly forgotten as Blake began massaging her outer folds, through the fabric of her panties at first but soon pressing against skin directly. Whether through careful planning or serendipity Pyrrha had chosen to wear tie-side panties, allowing Blake to undo a small bow and remove the garment while keeping her girlfriend's legs spread and tied. Pyrrha's breaths grew deeper and deeper as she felt Blake's growing touch between her legs, her curling toes a revealing tell.

Without glancing upwards to confirm permission, Blake's tongue began tracing decadent strokes across Pyrrha's vulva, slowly but surely pressing deeper between her folds. Blake's hands moved from her girlfriend's hips down to her thighs, fingers softly digging into sensitive flesh while her tongue darted deeper and deeper.

Pyrrha knew she took a long time to get off, was thusly reluctant to ever ask for the use of Blake's mouth because of the time it could demand. She would have said something, suggest Blake use her hands, or perhaps one of her toys, but the ballgag between her teeth kept her sounds from forming words, and before long the ecstatic sensation of Blake's passionate strokes drove conscious thought from her mind.

Blake's tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, diligently and with increasing force. Blake rested herself between Pyrrha's spread legs, her fingers gently spreading and pushing, her tongue lapping and stroking with elongated brushes. She breathed in Pyrrha's aroma, watched eagerly as Pyrrha's thighs tensed and quivered, how the redhead began unconsciously gyrating against her girlfriend's face, the ecstasy of her growing cries clear through the rubber in her mouth. Pyrrha was always louder than Blake during sex - whimpered cries and excited shouts - still present now but the ballgag blurring them all into moans of inarticulate passion.

Blake felt her lover's whole body tense as her last strokes brought her over the edge, Pyrrha's back arching as the orgasm thundered through her, leaving Blake's face damp by the end of it. Blake waited patiently for a few moments as the aftershocks reverberated through Pyrrha, small tremors in her thighs and arms. Only when she was convinced that the orgasm had run its full course did she slide up next to her girlfriend, unbuckling the gag before Pyrrha could make any intelligent noise.

Blake lifted the ballgag out of Pyrrha's mouth, the captive making a vague ' _bwah_ ' noise as it was removed. Her jaw ached and traces of saliva were all over her face, but both were forgotten as Blake's lips began their ministrations, her mouth eagerly finding Pyrrha's as they exchanged wet and sloppy kisses.

"Was that okay?" asked Blake, sliding up beside her girlfriend so her mouth was by Pyrrha's ear. Pyrrha's chest still rose and fell in heavy breaths, her skin glistening with a light sweat whose scent Blake had learned to love.

"I think I rather enjoyed that," mused Pyrrha with a contented look in her eyes, shaking her hips slightly as she did.

"I meant the ballgag," asked Blake, tossing a glance at the sex toy now resting limply on the blanket, still wet from Pyrrha's mouth.

"It was fine," Pyrrha answered, craning her neck to land a few more kisses on Blake. "A little uncomfortable," she admitted, knowing the value Blake placed on truth and honesty, "but the look in your eyes made it worth it."

"I'll save it for special occasions," Blake promised, forging a compromise between her desire to see Pyrrha so restrained and her aversion to making her girlfriend uncomfortable. Pyrrha herself didn't feel the need for it to be such a treat for Blake, but decided against fighting that battle right now. "Would you like something to drink?"

"I think we have an open bottle of red," Pyrrha noted in response, and Blake scampered off to retrieve it, returning a moment later with a filled wine glass. She slid her free hand beneath Pyrrha's back to seat her girlfriend upright without untying her hands, taking a simple pleasure in raising the glass to Pyrrha's lips until she was sated. Pyrrha grinned a little at that, almost finishing the glass before tilting her head to indicate she was done. She fell back on the bed and half-closed her eyes while Blake quenched her own thirst in turn, Pyrrha's taste and that of French grapes mixing together in her mouth.

"Now then," began Pyrrha, managing to sit herself upright in bed. Her legs were still tied apart and he wrists bound behind her back, making the maneuver a little awkward, but she had more than sufficient poise to balance herself. "Is there anything you'd like tonight, my love?"

Blake slid her hands around Pyrrha's neck and pressed together for a kiss, gently guiding their bodies back to the mattress as she did. "I already got you to wear a giant ballgag for at least twenty minutes," murmured Blake, a hand playing through Pyrrha's hair as she did. "That's like… a month of Sexy Girlfriend Duties there; I'm not pushing my luck any farther."

"Blake?"

"Yes, my- _Ow_!" before Blake could finish her sentence her girlfriend headbutted her softly, really the only thing she could do with her hands and legs still bound. Blake scowled, but there was no weight in the gesture. "What was that for?" she pouted.

"You're being silly again," chided Pyrrha, twisting around slightly so the ropes around her wrists were facing Blake. Her girlfriend took the non-verbal cue to begin untying the knot. "Do you still feel… _aroused_?" Blake couldn't help but smirk a little as her girlfriend conspicuously avoided the word ' _horny_ ', still having difficulty with crasser vocabulary.

"Kinda yeah," Blake conceded, as she finished unlacing the knot. There were faint lines on Pyrrha's skin where the ropes had dug in, although the way her girlfriend didn't immediately begin rubbing her wrists suggested they hadn't been tied too tightly.

"And did you just make me incredibly satisfied?"

"I… I hope so," answered Blake, and the look Pyrrha shot her meant there really was no room for doubt. The knots around Pyrrha's ankles came undone much quicker, restoring the redhead's full range of motion.

"And do you think _I_ still want to do something for _you_?"

There was an awkward moment, the two women sitting an arm's length apart on the bed. Blake had rolled up the sleeves on her dress shirt, leaving her forearms bare, which she scratched absent-mindedly. There was still a _heat_ between her legs demanding release, and a girlfriend more than willing to supply it. Why did she feel so awkward asking for it? Because she'd already asked her girlfriend to wear a punishing ballgag, her jaw aching for the sake of Blake's mental picture…

"Greediness isn't the most attractive trait in a girlfriend," said Blake.

"And neither is self-denial," fired back Pyrrha, perhaps a little sharper than she'd intended. "At least… that's what you told me."

Blake couldn't think of anything to say as Pyrrha wrapped herself around her, legs intertwining and lips locking. Pyrrha had long ago learned to suppress urges and desires when there was no acceptable way of sating them, and the instincts remained deeply ingrained in her even as she'd spread her wings. It had taken months of Blake's gentle coaxing to get her girlfriend to feel comfortable expressing arousal and desire, to feel at ease stating what she wanted done to herself, where she'd like Blake's hands and lips and tongue.

Now that she was on the other side, Pyrrha had to admit it was a little annoying.

"My love for you isn't transactional, Blake," Pyrrha murmured. sliding her hand over Blake's thighs as she did. "I'm not thinking, 'in exchange for one orgasm, I'll put on a ballgag'." Pyrrha's finger's became a little more forceful in their scouting, pressing firmly against the wool. "I don't think 'I did one sexual favor for Blake tonight, so she's not getting anything else'." Pyrrha's fingers found what they were searching for, began rubbing in slow, deliberate patterns. "That way of thinking makes me sad, Blake, it's not how I want to live."

"I _know_ ," half-groaned Blake, as her toes began curling, Pyrrha's pace maddening her. "That's not our relationship," she vowed, even as her eyes were drifting shut from the sensation.

"So you're not going to feel guilty about asking for one thing, then asking for another," Pyrrha declared, her hand pulled away from Blake's crotch so the athlete could properly straddle her, fingers hurriedly undoing the leather belt around her hips. "Making you happy makes me happy, Blake."

And that was their love, a simple thing and all the more unbreakable for it.

Pyrrha began yanking down Blake's pants with unusual forcefulness, Blake hurriedly sliding out of her shirt a moment later. Beneath her formal attire were matching black panties and a bra, modest in their surface area but alluring in their design. Cinder _did_ know her unmentionables, Blake had to concede. As she finished pulling Blake's pants down around her ankles Pyrrha hurriedly slipped out of her dress in turn, leaving her standing in a tube top bra that Blake found inexplicably irresistible.

And there was something _predatory_ about the way Pyrrha moved now. Sitting upright, Blake leaned in slightly for a kiss, only to feel Pyrrha's hand pressed firmly over her ribcage, forcing her back down to the mattress with a _fwump_. Her lips, still parted slightly in surprise, were met by Pyrrha's eager mouth, lips and teeth asserting themselves. Pyrrha's red hair spilled over her head like a mane, vibrant and fiery and _alive_.

The heat between Blake's legs was met with Pyrrha's hand soon after, causing Blake's fingernails to dig into her girlfriend's powerful shoulders. If Pyrrha noticed the pressure from Blake's fevered grip she gave no sign of it, one finger coming to rest on either side of Blake's folds while a third pushed inward.

Blake couldn't kiss anymore as the rhythm of Pyrrha's strokes increased in intensity, powerful muscles and calloused fingertips practically shaking Blake with every stroke. Pyrrha's mouth found new places to explore as she pulled herself closer to her girlfriend, moving down Blake's neck and collarbone before she found the sweat on her bosom. Blake's heels began scraping along the mattress, as if trying to gain traction, the sheer _possessiveness_ of Pyrrha's hold enveloping her, warm and strong and unyielding.

Unfamiliar shouts escaped Blake's mouth as Pyrrha's strokes escalated to a _crescendo_ , the orgasm sending a shudder from Blake's shoulders to her toes. Pyrrha grinned a grin of self-satisfaction as Blake's rather vocal body went limp, so rarely did her girlfriend make anything other than reflexively-suppressed moans.

The blurriness in her vision gradually dissipated as Blake returned to consciousness, her entire body practically cradled by Pyrrha's muscular form. The sheets were drenched from the sweat of their lovemaking, their bodies coated in each other's scents.

"Happy Valentine's, my love," murmured Blake into Pyrrha's ear, sounding as if sleep was preparing to take her.

"Happy-" before Pyrrha could finish her sentence she felt Blake's fingers at her lips, sliding a milky chocolate between them.

Pyrrha drifted to sleep without another word, the taste of her girlfriend's love staying with her the whole night.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments give me WAFF. Good smut? Sufficiently fluffy setting? Believable? All helps.
> 
> A little bit of fun with the AU's characters, uncomplicated, I hope. Though this AU Blake shares suspicious similarities to the one I wrote in "The Knot You Call Love". As always I try to keep to the feel of the canonical character's counterparts even in an AU, which I really hope translated.
> 
> So this was written basically as a coda to "Making Ends Meet", as I felt like I didn't give quite the kinky smut I may have promised. sorrynotsorry. But this is basically the opposite of a fade-to-black moment, I hope. If you haven't read the first work in the series and would like a more plot-intensive (but still mildly kinky) romance, feel free to check it out.
> 
> Apologies if there are any typos, but this was written and edited on bit tighter a schedule than I normally like, as real life might get more hectic soon.


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